


Dusk Long Past

by ZeraCyfr



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 07:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17658794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeraCyfr/pseuds/ZeraCyfr
Summary: The end of the beginning





	1. Prelude - The Cloak

###  _THE LIGHT FADED MONTHS AGO..._

The House of Dusk. By all accounts, one of the greater threats lurking across the galaxy at the moment, which, considering the company they’re sharing, isn’t a light feat. A planet-devouring dreadnought under the command of an emperor in exile, the entire planets overtaken by time traversing questionably organic cybernetics, the remnants of a dead legion, the Worms and their machinations…

It should come as no surprise, then, that the symbol of the lands Dusk has fallen over, and of the Eliksni that call themselves part of it, is poorly received in most circles.

Maybe, with all its frays, the ragged edges, this cloak aims to change that. Maybe the hunter who wears it doesn’t care that it’s much too large for any reasonable guardian to wear. Maybe, for them, the symbol adorning the back is a reminder to see for yourself the universe around themselves.

Maybe, just maybe, this symbol of the Darkness helps this particular Guardian find his way back into the Light.


	2. Final Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the beginning

The impact was rough. Rougher than he’d probably have normally liked. But, given he didn’t remember why he was in the escape pod, and how tired he was of drifting, he was happy enough to be on solid ground. He wasn’t sure he ever had been.The door kicked open with a loud slam as half-maintained recovery systems deployed with variable degrees of success. He could hear a raft inflating around the rim of the pod, only to deflate moments later as seals that were at least half a century old, if not double that, failed under pressure. He patted himself down. Nothing out of place. Not that wasn’t already from his diagnosis upon waking up. The gun he presumed was his was still at home in its holster, the audio-holo recording tucked away in a pocket. Under the name some previous, fourth iteration of him had worn. That iteration had left him instructions. Start over. If he remembered why, start over again. Etch one marking into the pod’s interior each time, until it worked. He put his hand on the strut with its five tallies, and pushed himself out of the pod. Brushing off the uniform, he briefly investigated the sigil on it, three gem-like shapes in white, with two yellow triangles beneath them, wondering what memories it might bring back. He thought, and closed his eyes… and saw…

Nothing. 

Guess that meant it worked this time.

Synthetic eyes turned to survey the world around him. It all felt very unfamiliar. Then again, his only real point of reference was the inside of an escape pod. There was so much green… muted green, but green. He could see a river not far away, and a still area where the banks had long since overflown, if barely, forming a large area of near-placid water where trees still burgeoned forth. There was a long, curving, and relatively flat stretch of land that looked to be marked with regular, if faded, lines, partially overflowed as well. Something told him it was a road. Whatever a road was. A long, relatively flat stretch of land, he supposed. Pulling his weapon from its holster, and keeping an ear out, he started along it. It was a long trip… and there was quite a lot to see, the road twisting along the river, among fallen trees, the broken pavement reclaimed entirely in places as it turned through thicker woods and out along the water’s edge. But it wasn’t too long before he found signs of humanity. Old, decrepit signs, but signs nonetheless. Ducking into a crumbling hole in the brick face of a long-abandoned apartment complex, he did his best not to dislodge any masonry, somewhat afraid the whole thing would give way from the lightest pressure in the wrong place. It held firm, thankfully, and he began picking through the place, searching for something, anything really, that might have been a clue... 

Until he heard a sound that could only be described as skittering.

Quickly turning, he wasn’t fast enough to raise his weapon as the Dreg (How did he know that was a Dreg?) sank its dagger into his chest, eyes growing wide as he tried to wrest the weapon away from his attacker. His efforts only got him thrown into the pile of bricks to the side of the collapsed wall, a subdued gasp of pain finally escaping him as his processors caught up with his sensors. The arcing damage from the weapon was throwing mixed signals, and as he tried to raise his pistol, it shuddered and twitched as if possessed. Not that it mattered. The Dreg didn’t need to finish him off, nor did it have the time, as it turned out. Before he could get the pistol leveled, he heard the sound of heavy, rapid footsteps.

Then the Dreg hit the other wall, fell to the floor, and never moved again.

An impressively built figure in old, patchwork armor shook blood off their shoulder before they pulled their helmet off, revealing a human’s face beneath. She didn’t speak, only surveyed him with a look of regret on her face, gently taking his gun from his noncompliant hand, and placing it across his chest as she held his hand.

“... I’m sorry I wasn’t faster.”

A strange light appeared beside her head, hidden within an angular shell. It had nicks and scarring across its surfaces, and scorch marks aside. It surveyed him briefly, before slowly turning, as if shaking its head, and disappearing into dust. The woman’s face grew more somber, before she knelt beside him and squeezed his hand. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was squeezing back or not, but he wanted to. He didn’t know if there were words left to say, but he could feel his systems failing. He wouldn’t be much longer now, and he knew it.

“... Don’t be.”

He could feel her grip on his hand growing tighter as his own on hers loosened, though eventually even that sensation faded. She was getting blurry.

"Zak-4?"

How could she have known his name? He wasn't sure he knew his name. Just what was written on the nametag on his chest.

Oh. Right.

"... 9. My name is Zak-9."

As oil soaked over the edge of his nametag, obscuring the number from view, his head fell to the side, and he was gone.


	3. Dawn of a New Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new beginning

Zak-9 awoke with a start, smothered in cloth. He could see daylight filtering through the rotten drapes, and feel a weight against his chest. Sitting straight up, he gasped for air, before he realized he was synthetic. He didn’t need to breathe, one would think. But he did anyways. He heard something clatter as the decrepit covers fell away from his form, and while his first instinct was to look, he was nearly blinded by the sun setting through the collapsed front of the building. And, subsequently, rather distracted by the smaller pinprick of Light floating among it, its angular silhouette floating just in front of him.

“I’ve finally found you…”

He could feel questions building on his metaphorical tongue, only to be quashed by further confusion. He couldn’t remember anything. His hands scrabbled at his body, his ancient uniform barely holding under his frantic investigation. There was a hole in the meager body armor, and a nametag partially obscured by oil. Zak… his name was Zak… No, his name was Zak-9. How did he know that?

He didn’t have time to guess. Too much was running through his head as he checked himself… and felt something in the pocket behind the nametag. He pulled it out. Some sort of recording device… aged, but intact. The Light seemed to take an interest in it, but like himself, it held back its questions, staying silent for the moment as the exo regained his bearings. Putting it back, just for the moment, he finally turned his attention to the clatter. An old revolver had fallen to the floor nearby. The surface was rusted, but it looked to be in working order. Good. He’d need a weapon. Kicking masonry off of himself, he slowly dragged himself to his feet, picking the gun up and finally turning back to the Ghost in front of him.

“... What’s going on?”


	4. Recalibrating

The young warlock stood before Ikora, fidgeting with his bond. Once again, he’d slipped off into the wilderness, absconded from his studies. He wasn’t even doing it on purpose. Sometimes, he needed materials for his research, but even if he found them outside the walls, he never quite felt the need to just… hurry back. There was so much to see, so much to discover… The research could wait, right? He had an eternity.

“So what’s all this then? Newbie got detention?”

He about jumped out of his chassis as Cayde-6 entered the room, turning to face him instead of his mentor for a moment. He tried to step out of the way, but Cayde just caught his shoulder, giving it a brief pat as he walked around him. His hand immediately went back to the bond, rubbing over the lacquered leather, following a familiar wear pattern.

“Cayde, good of you to finally show up.”  
“Had to finish my hand with Zavala. Ain’t like it’s free to be this pretty.”

He couldn’t pay attention to what they were saying as well as he probably should’ve. From what he knew, the Vanguard didn’t usually take first timers’ assignments this seriously. But after the third “be back in a day or two” that took over a month, he’d been summoned to the spartan conference room that the Vanguard used as their command center. He wasn’t sure why, but generally when Ikora wanted to speak to you, and snappily at that, it probably wasn’t good…

“... like a Hunter.”  
“What do you mean he ‘moves like a Hunter?’ I’ve never seen the kid…”

A brief snippet caught his attention, and dragged his attention forcibly back to the pair, something catching in his chest as some of the fear absconded, to be replaced with something that resembled curiosity on its face.

“... mean what I said, he doesn’t move like a Warlock, he moves like a Hunter. He’s spent more time in the wilderness of half the planets in this system than the archives here, and I swear I’ve watched him disappear into thin air before. I think we’ve put his curiosity to the wrong use.”  
“... So what you’re telling me is, you want to pass him off on me?”  
“No, I’m telling you, his talents are wasted under me. Show him what he can do. I bet he’ll surprise you.”

Zak’s eyes flitted between them as they turned back to face him, his hand falling away from the bond as he tried to think of something to say. But, as his attention had failed him moments prior, words failed him now, and he could only watch as Cayde shrugged.

“Eh… we’ll see. Come on kid, let’s get you into something… snappier. Maybe a cloak’ll fit’cha better.”


	5. You Will Fear Nothing

He could feel the weight of the cloth catching the air as wind blew through the brush, the Hunter slowly making his way through the dense foliage. Searching for the Nightstalker. Searching for something that might let him channel the power he’d found into something more than a grenade. It had been half a decade since he’d become a Guardian, and in that time, he’d never come to possess the sort of techniques that came to the rest of them, those powerful bursts of Light most people called “Supers.” For some time, he’d thought he could use a Warlock’s Nova Bomb, but in the end, he’d been wrong about that too, the swirling void turning out to be something much more akin to a grenade.

“Look, kid, void was never my area of ex-par-tease. Go find Tevis. He’ll give you someplace to look, at least.”

So on Cayde’s advice, he sought out Tevis Larsen. He’d had to track the enigmatic Hunter, of course, Cayde wasn’t the type to keep track of where such people were. Unless of course they owed him money. But it wasn’t hard to follow the current, the Void whispering to him as it always had. He’d heard rumors of the bow used by Nightstalkers, the rare, far-flung Hunters who drew from the Void as he had. But no one had been able to tell him how it worked. Most of the other Hunters who heard he was trying gave him a telling look of fear. The void had that sort of effect on a lot of Hunters, he’d come to find… but it had always been a comforting presence to him. There were subtleties to the flow, the nothingness within it. Hopefully, Tevis could help him put those subtleties to use.

It was Tevis who found Zak, however, not the other way ‘round. The exo stopped in his tracks as he heard the click of a hammer, turning to see a cannon pointed at his head. His hands slowly rose into the air, removing his helmet on the way, and remaining silent. Waiting for Tevis to take the second move. Eventually, the Nightstalker lowered his gun, and spoke.

“What’re you doing all the way out here? Don’t tell me Cayde sent you to check on me.” Zak could almost feel the disdain at the thought, slowly lowering his hands. “Not here to check on you… I came to ask for advice.” The judgement inundating the air thickened. “... I know it’s a bit trivial seeming to track you down for that, but-”

“It’s the bow, right? You wanna know why you can’t manage it?”

Read like a book. He couldn’t call it surprising, only disappointing. Sighing, the exo nodded, spinning his helmet idly in his hands. “Yeah.” There’s a curt laugh from the Nightstalker, before he almost growls, “Tell me then… what do you think of the void?” He seemed to wait, surveying the exo for a time as he considered his answer. Zak… wasn’t quite sure. He knew what he thought of the void he knew. But he’d never tried to conjure the bow. He’d never known the void could create - he only knew of what it could do to wash things away in its current. It was a harder question than he was expecting it to be. But in the end, he wasn’t sure he could provide a satisfactory answer to the other Hunter. So, he provided an answer that would be satisfactory for himself.

 

“... I think the Void is… deep… dark, as far as the Light goes… but it’s interesting… there’s subtleties to it that’ve guided me along for a long, long time… I think… I think it’s to be respected. But I can’t bring myself to be afraid of it, like… well. Like a lot of people seem to be.”

Tevis didn’t respond for a long moment, the exo watching him as he continued to stare through the impassive visage of his helmet. Before the silence finally broke with a soft chuckle, the Nightstalker slowly sitting down on a nearby rock and gesturing idly at Zak with his cannon. “Sit down, kid. That was the right answer.” As Zak sat himself down, he could tell Tevis was looking at the old bond still tied to his arm. “... You that ex Warlock I heard Cayde talking about a few years back? Or is that a memento?” Glancing at his own arm, Zak nodded, eventually musing, “Nah, this is mine, so… probably was me.” A nod. “No wonder you’re not scared…” That gives Zak pause for thought, his eyes fixing on his palms for a moment, before he shakes his head. “... I don’t think that’s it. I’ve just… never quite been afraid of it. It just… I’ve also never reached for it. Never had the reason to.” He can almost hear the smirk in the Nightstalker’s reply.

 

“Get ready then, kid. Because you do now.”


	6. Amidst the Current

He turned the bit of golden age tech he’d found over and over in his fingers, not even realizing as the corrosion flaked off under his grip. Sniper rifle slung over his shoulder, he blinked and snapped out of his sort of roaming trance as Gheist let out a soft, warbling tone, drawing his attention to a warlock searching through some tech.

Sitting down nearby, he gave the warlock a few seconds to notice him, before he coughed softly. He could’ve sworn the awoken was about to fly off the cliff. Once he’d calmed down, Zak apologizing profusely for the surprise all the while, he meekly returned to his work.

“Sorry… it’s hard to avoid that.”

Further apologies from the exo, trying to placate the Ghost as well. He was used to accidentally sneaking up on people. He quietly watched the warlock work for a few minutes, thinking for a little while. Turning the piece over and over in his hand, until he gave it another glance himself.

“... Looks like you’re missing a part.”

He propped his rifle up on a tree. In a few moments, it’d be at the bottom of the cliff, in less than workable shape. But it got the warlock talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all relatively old material, being posted for the sake of clarity and context for some of the character's actions and history. I'm planning on updating other stuff more regularly, but this one in particular I'm leaving as incomplete, because there's more I want to write for it, but the time isn't quite right. Which is a euphemism for "I don't know which bits I wanna add on and until I have all of them sorted out more or less in order (at least for the character's immediate future) I can't quite... get them into the format for further chapters. So, incomplete for now, will hopefully be updated frequently, or marked as completed once it's no longer necessary.


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